Enjoying the View
(Darcy)
When I arrived, I wasn’t prepared for how I’d react when I saw Liam. When he opened the door, my breathing stopped. I forgot to breathe until he’d led me into this room and I sat down on this chair.
I want to look around the room, to check it out, but I can’t take my eyes from him. And he hasn’t stopped looking at me. He’s wearing a tuxedo that, though it doesn’t seem possible, increases his sex appeal. His broad shoulders were made for a tux. I try to ignore the increasing heat between my legs.
His black bow tie looks ever so slightly lopsided, meaning he must have tied it himself instead of wearing one of those clip-ons. I try not to imagine him with the tie hanging loosely around his neck, his top button undone.
His caramel eyes meet mine, and I feel the growingly familiar jolt of whatever it is that’s between us. I have to resist this and not get sucked into whatever magnetic pull he has on me.
This is not a date. This is purely me fulfilling my end of the bargain. Though that doesn’t explain why I wore the sexiest dress I own. The one I bought two days ago. Just for tonight.
“Had a good week?” He asks. Small talk, great.
“After I got over Saturday, sure. You?”
“No. I haven’t gotten over Saturday yet.”
I nod, still unable to take my eyes from him. A man appears with a tray of two drinks and presents me my G&T. I take a long drink, willing the cold liquid to cool off my insides.
“Do I get my explanation before or after the event?”
His left eyebrow arches. “I was thinking a little before and a little after.”
“Any particular reason I’m not getting it all now?”
“Figured I’d better see how the evening goes first.” He takes a drink from his glass, and I do the same with mine. The ice cubes in my drink seem to be melting at an alarming rate.
Liam holds my eyes in his, and time passes without anything being said. He breaks our stare to take another sip of his drink. I use the opportunity to polish off most of mine.
It allows me to relax a little. Leaning back in the chair, I watch him as I make a show of crossing my legs. His eyes follow my leg as it moves, and his gaze locks on my upper thigh once my legs are crossed.
My heart quickens at the idea that someone as amazing as him is interested in my body. Maybe. After the way he left me Saturday night, it’s difficult to tell.
“I was testing myself,” he says, as if he were reading my mind.
“What? On Saturday?”
“Yes. I had to know.”
“Know what?”
“If you’d be just as appealing in the morning.”
“I don’t get it. Is that an insult? You thought you were wearing… Champagne goggles?”
“No, nothing like that.”
Liam stands and takes the few steps to me. He takes my hand and guides me out of the chair. The warmth from his touch once again floods me with heat. I twist to set my glass on the table.
“Are we going now?” I ask.
“I want to show you my home.”
I take a deep breath, wondering what his plan is. Grasping my hand tightly he leads me through room after opulent room. I’d never imagined such a big place, or that such big rooms existed in the center of Manhattan. And I’ve never been so naïve to think there weren’t really big apartments out there.
It’s just, this place. Liam’s home is shocking.
As we walk, we talk about the chocolate convention and the event market in general. He’s very interested to hear my opinion on what I think the future for event businesses is, and even surprises me with some insightful comments of his own.
Our conversation flows easily, and I get the same relaxed feeling I had on the plane.
“Do you want to see upstairs?” He asks.
“There’s an upstairs?”
“Mostly the bedrooms, but also my gym and a rooftop terrace.”
The bedrooms. If only.
“I’m good,” I say. Because if I go anywhere near a bed with him I’m going to have to demand he throw me on it.
“You kind of have to come upstairs, because that’s where the event is.”
My eyes widen, and for the first time in my life, I choke on my own spit.
“The event is in the bedroom?”
Liam captures my eyes again, “Do you want the event to be in the bedroom?”
“What? No!”
He laughs, a rich full-bodied sound that threatens to scoop me up and carry me to the bedroom all by itself.
“Come with me.” Increasing his grip on my hand, he starts up the wide staircase and I have no choice but to follow.
We turn left at the top, down a hallway wide enough for us to walk side by side, and through a door. The sounds of Manhattan rise from the street, and there are magnificent views of the skyline in every direction I look.
“Oh, the event is on your terrace?”
“Exactly. Over here.” I follow him through potted plants and flowers. We even walk under a pergola covered in a vine. The roof terrace is bigger than my entire apartment. And my apartment is a decent size.
He leads me to the far edge, to what must be the best view of the city. We take one step up onto a raised section of decking, on which a table is set for two. Elaborately set for two. With a long white tablecloth, more glasses than two people could drink out of and heavy silverware. In the middle, a low floral arrangement is surrounded by lit candles.
There are no other tables in sight. I swallow, staring at the flicker of the candle flames.
“This is the event?” I say, my voice trembling. I clear my throat. I can’t have a trembling voice. Just because this is obviously a date and not an event.